Tag: Holmes County Ohio

This sugar shack produces more than maple syrup

Sugar shack by Bruce Stambaugh
The sugar shack sits adjacent to the woods on Gary Miller’s farm west of Millersburg, Ohio.

By Bruce Stambaugh

I had often heard about the sugar shack. A group of guys I knew, mostly from our church, had formed an informal co-op. The goal was to make and offer maple syrup, with the donated proceeds going to a scholarship program for students in rural Honduras.

My journalistic nosiness finally got the best of me, and I ventured out one chilly day when the sap was running strong. My intent was to write a story for a local weekly newspaper. What I discovered went far beyond what any feature story could represent. Here were a few good men who through sheer determination made this sweet enterprise work. They worked cooperatively out of a common desire to succeed, not out of individual or corporate profit. Indeed, there were no profits. The money collected through donations went to the scholarship program.

Stoking the fire by Bruce Stambaugh
Tim Roth, left, and Paul Conrad stoke the fire of the sugaring evaporator system.
This endeavor was borne of commitment, desire, effort, camaraderie, purpose, joy, ingenuity, and sacrifice, all with rewarding results. And to think that it all started with the landowner, Gary Miller, standing in the rain dreaming of making maple syrup. Miller never envisioned how far his idea would go.

“Three years ago,” Miller said, “I was standing in the rain under an umbrella boiling sap in an assortment of old used pans on my grill.” Miller lives on a small farm west of Millersburg, Ohio.

Miller shared his idea with his friends, and the sugar shack quickly became a reality. The structure itself was donated to Miller. A friend, Paul Conrad, had an old shed he told Miller he could have, and Miller’s sons moved it in seven different sections for him. Once on site, the building was reassembled, reusing the old lumber. Since then, its design and size has been tweaked and expanded.

That process set the tone for what was to come. Much of the equipment used by Miller and his friends has been refurbished as some part and purpose of the maple syrup operation.

Tree taps by Bruce Stambaugh
Paul Conrad, left, and Bobby Miller check one of the 400 taps in Gary Miller’s woods.

Indeed, when the sap is moving like it is now, so does this voluntary collection of Miller’s friends and family who assist with the project. They placed 400 taps in sugar, red and black maple trees.

“We are careful about how many taps we place in a tree,” Miller said. “We don’t want to stress them.”

Like most farming efforts, preparing for the sap harvest takes a lot of preparation, and can be an ongoing project. Recently a shed was built to store the chords of firewood needed to heat the boiling process. Of course the friends also helped split and stack the wood that fuels the fire that boils the sap on a homemade evaporator. True to form, the gregarious crew also put that together. Much of that ingenious system consists of recycled metal and other repurposed materials.

The wood stove that holds the fire that boils the sap belonged to Scott Sponsler, another friend. The stove was extended with metal from old toolboxes from a pick up truck that Miller owned. Miller had a fan rebuilt and some ductwork manufactured locally. Together they help distribute the heat generated by the wood stove. The heat evaporates the sap into syrup.

The sap enters the sugar shack from another recycled item, an old bulk tank rescued from an unused milking parlor. It is held up by a repurposed metal stand so the sap flows by gravity into a smaller holding tank inside the old wooden shed.

Gary Miller by Bruce Stambaugh
Gary Miller explained how the sap is heated by running through a maze of troughs in order for it to become maple syrup.

From there, the sap runs into a customized sheet metal maze that allows the sap to be evaporated as it circulates up and down the four parallel troughs. After entering a second connected metal maze, the sap begins to change color. It is closer to the firebox and the pre-heated sap really begins to boil. Its darker color indicates that the moisture is being bubbled away.

Miller said that the sap isn’t officially maple syrup until its consistency is at least 66.9 degrees brix, as measured by a hydrometer. Miller said with this set up, it takes 51 gallons of sap to produce a gallon of syrup.

Miller and his friends make the syrup when the sap is running. He said warmer days and cooler nights are the best conditions to make the sap run. When the sap runs, so does this gang of close friends and family members. When the sap is running, his shack and the surrounding woods are very busy places indeed.

Pouring sap by Bruce Stambaugh
Scott Sponsler poured sap from the collection bucket into a 15-gallon container, which was hauled back with several others to the sugar shack via tractor.
Before it is pumped into the elevated holding tank, the sap is gathered into 15-gallon containers from each tap bucket. The containers are carried on the back of a small tractor. In keeping with the pattern, the tractor was loaned, too.

All the free equipment and labor is only appropriate. Miller said the maple syrup that is produced is not for sale, although it does have a name, Smoke Pit Maple Syrup.

“This is not a commercial operation,” Miller emphasized.

Instead customers get to donate whatever they feel the syrup is worth. The money is used for an educational scholarship program in Honduras. Miller’s Sunday school class at Millersburg Mennonite Church is financially sponsoring the schooling of several children there.

Roy Miller, a retired Holmes County family physician, serves as the unofficial coordinator of activities. He even travels to Honduras several times a year and meets with the students, their parents and the local church leaders who oversee the scholarship program there.

With all that said, Gary Miller revealed the secret ingredient in the maple syrup production as far as he is concerned.
“It’s not about the syrup,” Miller said. “It’s about the fellowship.”

Indeed, laughter and kibitzing among the friends intermingle with the steam from the cooking sap in the cold, small shack. The steam and merriment waft together out into the cold air through the open doorways. The good-natured ribbing helps make the labor-intensive sugaring efforts all the sweeter.

In that initial visit, I was impressed with the care given to producing a quality product, and with the interpersonal interaction that makes this particular micro business the all around success that it is.

It was clear to me that two pure products are produced at the sugar shack. High quality maple syrup created for a great cause is the tasty finished product. Genuine, committed friendship that knows no bounds and has no earthly measure is the dividend.
Persons interested in obtaining some of the Smoke Pit Maple Syrup should contact Gary Miller at 330-763-0364.

Hydrometer by Bruce Stambaugh
Gary Miller demonstrated how he checks the sugar content of the maple syrup using a hydrometer.

This story appears in the current edition of Farming Magazine.

The best thing about vacations

Leaving the harbor by Bruce Stambaugh
Fishermen leave the harbor at Fernandina Beach, FL.

By Bruce Stambaugh

Vacation is one of my favorite words. Perhaps it’s because it’s one of those duplicitous words in the English language that can be used as either a noun or a verb.

I love to go on vacation. We will vacation at the beach. Either way, the end result is still the same. Vacation is vacation.

My wife and I are fortunate to be at a point in our lives where we can get away, if only for a few days, without much hassle. When friends invited us to share a house with them in sunny Florida for a week, we cleared our schedules and confirmed our reservations.

When you live in northern Ohio and it’s wintertime, there’s only one direction to go on vacation, and that is south. Clearly, I’m not a snow skier. At my age, I prefer the warmth to cold, and so do my old bones.

Siesta sunset by Bruce Stambaugh
Sunset at Siesta Key Beach, Sarasota, FL.

It’s more than climate that draws us away from our familiar digs, Holmes Co., Ohio, where up to four million visit annually. Most visitors to our area, however, choose spring, summer and especially fall to roam the bucolic Holmes County hills.

Our curiosity and desire for adventure draw us away from our own congenial vistas as much as anything. We love to explore new places as well as revisit familiar ones.

Our gracious Florida hosts planned plenty of interesting activities for us during our weeklong stay. Fortunately, we enjoy many similar activities as our friends. Like us, they prefer to pace themselves. It was vacation after all. No reason to rush.

I could bore you with a verbal slideshow of our trip. I’ll just say we had a great time, whether we were on the most beautiful beach in the country, which we were, or enjoying an enlightening and informative historical tour, which we did.

Florida House by Bruce Stambaugh
The Florida House, Fernandina Beach, FL, is the oldest operating hotel in Florida.

Instead, I want to tell you about some of the people we encountered along the way. It happens wherever we go. I am fascinated and appreciate the kindness of pure strangers we encounter on our travels. Meeting new people is one of the vacation perks.

Sure, there are a few goofballs almost everywhere. But for the most part, we have found people to be absolutely engaging, matching the gorgeous scenery that surrounds them.

It is hard to single out any one person in Mt. Airy, North Carolina. Everyone we met seemed like a familiar character from Mayberry.

Captain Dave by Bruce Stambaugh
Captain Pajama Dave piloted our Beach Creek tour at Fernandina Beach, FL.
The young and enthusiastic park ranger near Mt. Mitchell on the Blue Ridge Parkway was most helpful. He directed us to Asheville when we found the road unexpectedly closed.

The kind lady at the Venice Rookery who encouraged us to return at dusk to watch the hundreds of nesting egrets, herons and ibises settle in for the night was a pure gem. Even a non-birder would marvel at that experience.

Another amazing individual was our tour boat captain at Fernandina Beach, Florida. Captain Dave was as cordial and passionate about his lovely habitat as the history of the area was interesting. His trademark bright red Elmo pajama pants fit his personality and his passion for nature’s handiwork that he so eloquently pointed out.

Juniper by Bruce Stambaugh
The precocious Juniper.

Finally, there was 2-year-old Juniper, the petite and perky daughter of some friends in Charlotte. We had never met her. Yet by evening’s end, she wanted “Pruce” to read her one more book.

To paraphrase Dr. Seuss, Oh the places we’ve been and the people we’ve met. Together they make vacation a charmed word in our household.

Timing is everything, especially when birding

Courting Egrets by Bruce Stambaugh
I caught this pair of Great Egrets in their courting ritual at the Venice, FL Rookery. The Great Blue Heron to the left didn't seem too impressed.

By Bruce Stambaugh

The weather was dreary and cold, with occasional snow flurries. It was just another winter’s day in Holmes County, Ohio as far as I was concerned. But it turned out to be so much more than that.

I drove the nine miles east to check on my mother, who lives in a local nursing home. I kept my visit short as usual, making sure I had refilled Mom’s bowl of jellybeans before I said goodbye.

As I was driving home a flash of white caught my attention to the right just east of Berlin, center of the world’s largest Amish population. Besides the color, the bird’s large wings, small head and short tail were all instantly noticeable.

I checked traffic and slowed my vehicle. The bird’s rapid, steady flight cut directly across my path right to left, giving me a full, close view for nearly a minute.

By its distinctive wingbeats, its size and color, I reckoned it was a Snowy Owl. Given my situation, I had no other choice. I had to keep alert driving, yet I tried to keep my eyes on this rare bird.

Ospreys at Corolla NC by Bruce Stambaugh
While vacationing in Corolla, NC, I happened upon this pair of Ospreys building a nest on a rooftop.
I didn’t have either my binoculars or camera along. The only thing to do was to keep driving and hope that I could spot it again as I made my way west through town.

Snowy Owls recently had been reported all across the midwestern part of the country, including Ohio. This was far south of their normal winter range. Experts speculated that the owls came in search of food. Normally nocturnal, Snowy Owls will hunt in the daytime when stressed by hunger.

As I motored through two signal lights and the usual clog of traffic in the busy unincorporated village, I kept looking south. I spotted the bird off and on, and saw it gliding as if it was going to land southwest of town.

Once I reached the open area west of Berlin, I again found the white owl, this time flapping its large wings. As I headed down the hill colloquially dubbed Joe T. hill, I lost sight of this magnificent bird. I didn’t know if it had landed or flown out of sight.

My only option had been to observe every detail of the bird that I could while driving. In the birding world, that process is called reckoning, meaning noting the birds shape, size, flight pattern, and behavior.

To be sure of my sighting, I consulted several bird books when I got home. They confirmed what I had seen. I reported the sighting to the rare bird alert. That way others in the area might see the owl, too.

That’s the way birders are. Half the joy of watching birds is sharing what is seen with others.

Amish boys biking by Bruce Stambaugh
Young Amish boys like these young men often will bike miles to go birding.
Ohio’s Amish country is blessed with an abundance of excellent birders, many of them in their early teens. It is not uncommon for them to get a group together, and bike for miles to go birding for a day.

They keep track of what they see, species, numbers and locations. And if they happen to spot an unusual bird, the word gets spread quickly so others may enjoy the opportunity as well.

In this case, I couldn’t believe my good fortune to be at just the right place at just the right time to see a Snowy Owl. I considered myself extremely fortunate to have seen this rare bird.

When birding, like so many other situations in life, timing is everything.

Checking the roads and the scenery

Fall haying by Bruce Stambaugh
By Bruce Stambaugh

When I moved to Holmes County, Ohio more than four decades ago, one of my initial purchases was a county road map. I wanted to learn my way around the ridges, valleys and hamlets of the area.

I drove both the highways and back roads in order to get to know the topography and citizenry of this place. Geography buff that I am, landscape variations between the glaciated and the unglaciated portions of the county greatly intrigued me.

I marveled equally at the steep wooded hills that defined the broad Killbuck Valley, and the rolling farmlands and rivulets in the county’s northern section. The common elements of picturesque scenery and practical people reoccurred despite the demographic differences.

All these years later I still drive the roads, still learn, still enjoy my bucolic and human encounters. I think about that often, especially when I inspect the roads for which I am responsible as a township trustee.

Washout by Bruce StambaughMy main objective is to ensure safe road conditions, and check for potential problems like plugged culverts, leaning trees and slippery roads. I do those duties, but the pastoral vistas and the genial people I encounter along the way can easily distract me. I don’t mind in the least. The diversity of the countryside and characters in my township are truly remarkable.

My regular route takes me up hill and down vale, through densely wooded ravines with sharply slanting walls that rise abruptly on both sides. In several places road and stream are pinched with just enough room to navigate side-by-side.
Amish farm by Bruce Stambaugh
In minutes, I can motor from forested valley to high, rolling fertile fields that surround coffin red bank barns and white farmhouses. Various shapes and sizes of purposeful farm buildings cluster around the intentionally unadorned agrarian castles.

It was inevitable that over the years the views would be altered. With the population regularly expanding and the land not, cottage businesses and manufacturing buildings sprouted up out of necessity. Many are Amish run and involve some aspect of the lumber industry. Other shops create products specifically for the benefit of the Amish lifestyle, like buggy shops and farriers.

The commerce is nice. The views and residents are better.
Saltcreek farm by Bruce Stambaugh
Near one of my favorite hilltops, the land falls away gradually, cascading toward the Killbuck lowlands. It is a sacred place for me, and yet it is at this precise spot where a new Amish country murder mystery novel is set. When I read about the book’s release, I wondered if the writer had ever met the good folks on the homestead he had impugned.

Last winter, during a fierce snowstorm, a semi-tractor trailer truck got stuck on the slippery incline in front of this very farmstead. The kind farmer cranked up his bulldozer, puttered out the long lane in blinding snow and pushed the teamster and his rig over the hill and on his way.
Wash line by Bruce Stambaugh
When it comes to beauty, seasons are really insignificant as I traverse my lovely township. Refreshing summer breezes flap wash lines loaded with pastel clothing. Gaggles of youth skate and play on frozen ponds. A Golden Eagle roosts on a chubby fence post. Leafy rainbows of the mixed hardwoods compete with those in post-storm skies.

Then, too, rounds from paintball guns plaster stop signs, runaway streams wash away road banks, and citizens rankle at impassible roads. Fear not. Repairs can be made, relationships mended.

Peace is restored to my Camelot, at least until my next dreamy drive.
Amish school by Bruce Stambaugh

Amish show their thanks through service to community

Amish harvest by Bruce Stambaugh
During harvest, the Amish literally pitch in to help one another.

By Bruce Stambaugh

Once the floodwaters of the historic July 1969 flood had receded, the residents of Killbuck, Ohio were in shock. Homes and businesses were either destroyed or severely damaged by the record high water levels. Townspeople were ready to give up, the cleanup looked so daunting.

Then something amazing and unexpected happened. Scores of Amish and Mennonites arrived from the eastern section of the county, home to the world’s largest Amish population, to help. No one had asked them to come. They just showed up.

The volunteers waded in and did the absolute hardest, dirtiest jobs, clearing out mud and muck with no complaints. They did it all out of a basic foundation of thankfulness.

Helping in times of need affords the Amish a method of connecting with the community. It is their personal and active way of expressing their appreciation for community and country, and the cherished ability to worship freely.

Church buggies by Bruce Stambaugh
Gathering the buggies before church at an Amish home in Holmes Co., Ohio.

Amish do not normally participate in organized governmental positions. They do not take oaths, which such positions often require. Consequently, when opportunities to assist others arise, the Amish respond.

The Amish do not always wait for disaster to strike either. They are proactive in helping the less fortunate.

Donating blood is one of those opportunities. It’s not unusual for a local blood drive to collect 100 or more units every 56 days.

The Amish also show their thankfulness by helping with numerous annual benefit auctions that are held locally. A short list would include The Rainbow of Hope auction, The Ohio Mennonite Relief Sale, the Holmes County Home and the Holmes County Training Center.

Hitching rail by Bruce Stambaugh
The hitching rail at the Mt. Hope, Ohio, Auction is lined with horses and buggies on sale day.

Supporting such causes is borne of a two-fold purpose for the Amish. They recognize the importance to help those who have particular needs, and they also accept that they could possibly be in that situation themselves. They are grateful for whatever happens.

To briefly identify the purpose of the aforementioned benefits helps to understand the depth and breadth of the Amish aid. Funds from the Rainbow of Hope auction assist children with major medical bills. The Relief Sale raises funds for worldwide projects under the direction of Mennonite Central Committee.

MDS house by Bruce Stambaugh
A home damaged by Hurrican Katrina in Boothville, LA was repaired under the direction of Mennonite Disaster Service.

Amish even travel far from their geographic area to put their faith into action. After Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, scores of Amish assisted in the Gulf States cleanup and reconstruction. So many helped, in fact, that Mennonite Disaster Service set up an Amish only camp where the volunteers could live according to their normal lives without the influence of distractions like television and the Internet.

Locally, the auctions for the county home and the Training Center raise operating funds. The county home has some Amish residents, and Amish make up a good percentage of the population at the Training Center, which works with developmentally challenged students and adults.

Another way of contributing to the common good for some Amish is to join the local volunteer fire department. Several area departments have Amish on their rosters as firefighters and emergency medical technicians.

True to their desire for modesty, the Amish want no recognition or publicity for their kind efforts. Their satisfaction comes from the simple act and ability to help others.

Amish help by Bruce Stambaugh
Amish quickly helped their neighbors have a severe thunderstorm hit near Charm, Ohio in July.

Of course, the iconic images of Amish helping at a barn raising are conjured up as the ideal way to help their neighbor. But their generous participation in the community and world at large clearly shows that the Amish think and act out of thankfulness far beyond their own immediate area.

To be sure, most Amish families embrace Thanksgiving as a day of joyous celebration of community, bountifulness and life itself. Even then many Amish approach the day piously, fasting in the morning prior to the feast that includes all the traditional trimmings.

The Amish mark Thanksgiving Day as a pinnacle to a lifestyle of serving. Fittingly, they would be too modest to acknowledge that fact.

Amish farm fall by Bruce Stambaugh
A typical Amish farm in the fall in Holmes County, Ohio.

This article appears in the November 2011 edition of Ohio’s Amish Country magazine.

A change of plans for Mil Agnor

By Bruce Stambaugh

Mil Agnor is returning to Romania, but not to continue her Peace Corps service.

“I wanted to go back to say goodbye and thank you,” Agnor said.

Mil Agnor by Bruce Stambaugh
Mil Agnor

The gregarious Agnor had an unexpected change of plans. Earlier this year during an annual physical exam, the doctor found something she didn’t like.

The Peace Corps flew Agnor back to the United States via Medevac. She underwent a thorough exam and was diagnosed with a bladder cancer.

That changed everything for the adventuresome Agnor.

“When the Peace Corps flies you back for medical reasons, you have 45 days to get things in order,” Agnor explained. “If you can’t, your term is completed.”

That is exactly the scenario that played out for Agnor. She was unable though not unwilling to complete her two-year term. She was officially discharged from the Peace Corps August 3.

“I had my things all packed up before I had to leave,” Agnor said, “because I planned on moving to another house, not returning to Ohio.” The ever-dedicated Agnor knew she had to go back to Romania for more than her belongings.

“Life is all about relationships,” Agnor said. Though her volunteering was cut short, she made wonderful friends in the school and community of Palanca. Agnor needs this trip as much for them as for herself.

Agnor taught conversational English to 184 students in grades three through eight.

“These students live in the poorest part of Romania,” Agnor said. She said otherwise they would have very little exposure to the English language.

“The kids there have no organized activities,” she said. “We started after school programs and camps for them.”

When asked about someone her age going into the Peace Corps, Agnor just smiled and said, “I want to be remembered for something other than my age.”

Agnor said the Peace Corps actually markets to older people who have finished careers. Agnor had a quilting business in Holmes County for 28 years.

“I always admired the Amish in how they lived their lives,” Agnor said. She worked with several Amish women over the years to create custom quilts.

Agnor said she will spend two weeks in Romania bidding farewell and saying thanks. She will also do some traveling prior to returning to her new home in Stow, Ohio. Her son, Ross, lives in nearby Hudson.

“My intention was to at some point live close to him,” Agnor said. “It just got speeded up a bit.”

Agnor found what she called “a wonderful house at the end of a cul-de-sac.”

“There are lots of trees,” she said. “I have birdfeeders out, and I get to watch a Cooper’s Hawk chase a fox squirrel.”

Agnor said the surgery to remove the cancer was a success and that, other than losing some weight, she has no side effects from the immunotherapy treatments. She said she gets the treatments every six weeks initially, then every month for a year. After that, she will be monitored for the rest of her life.

The spunky senior made it clear that she has had no discomfort. Agnor said her situation is quite manageable and that she feels very fortunate and thankful that the Peace Corps doctors caught her cancer in an early stage.

“I have some good years yet,” she said. When she returns to Ohio at the end of the month, Agnor said she plans on volunteering at a library or in a park system.

“I love to sing,” she said, “so I’ll probably join a church choir, too.”

Volunteering is nothing new for Agnor. While in Millersburg, she served many years with the Holmes County Habitat for Humanity.

For now, Agnor will focus on revisiting her friends in Romania.

“I want to see the science lab that was started while I was there,” she said.

No doubt Agnor’s brief reunion with her former students and staff will be an emotional one. Agnor said the students made a quilt for her when they learned of her illness. The quilt had a cutout of each of their handprints on it.

There can also be no doubt that the effervescent Agnor will have lots to share about her goodbye tour of Romania once she returns home. That, of course, will be another exciting story in the energetic Agnor’s life.

Mil and Maric by Bruce Stambaugh
Mil Agnor and Romanian artist Ion Maric at an exhibit of his paintings in Palanca, Romania.

Reactions to earthquake many and varied

Amish farm Ohio by Bruce Stambaugh
Life in Holmes County, Ohio went back to normal right after the earthquake on August 23.

By Bruce Stambaugh

The reactions to the reverberations of the 5.8 magnitude earthquake that was felt in the Holmes County, Ohio area on August 23 varied according to individual circumstances. The quake was centered near Mineral, Va., but was felt more than 400 miles away.

Many in the area thought they were experiencing a sudden illness. Some weren’t sure what to think. A few knew that the shaking shortly before 2 p.m. was an earthquake. Others, especially those in vehicles, felt nothing at all.

It didn’t take people long to realize that the shaking was much more than something they felt personally. Some figured it out on their own, while others tuned to TV news, received text messages or saw it posted on social media.

Tim Roth, of Millersburg, said he was sitting in his recliner watching the Cleveland Indians baseball game when he felt the chair shake and the house creak. He wasn’t sure what was happening at first.

The press box at Progressive Field in Cleveland swayed east and west for 30 seconds, stopped briefly, and then shook again, but not as long or as hard. Fans in the upper deck sensed the shaking, too, but were reassured by ushers. The baseball game between the Indians and the Seattle Mariners continued uninterrupted.

Greta Monter, of rural Millersburg, was lying on her couch and suddenly felt her heart race. A registered nurse, she at first thought she was having a medical health issue, but then realized it was more than just her heart.

Lora Stackpole Erclauz, of Lakeville, said she felt just a slight shaking. She said at first she thought it was vertigo, called her husband and he had felt it, too.

Rita Baughman-Dawson said she thought a train had wrecked and fell off of the tracks. She said it was a very eerie feeling.

Mike Pacula, the band director at West Holmes Middle School, said he was at his desk in his office and noticed his chair rocking and his computer monitor wobbling.

Karen Reitz Miller was in her home in Millersburg when the windows began to rattle a little and the house creaked. She said it sounded like someone was on her roof. She turned on the TV and learned of the earthquake.

Joe Heatwole, who lives in Dalton, was on the second floor of Valley View Oak near Mt. Hope when he felt the floor begin to shake. Another employee yelled that his computer monitor was shaking and the floor was moving. Heatwole said it was an exhilarating feeling to experience an earthquake for the first time.

Arlene Yoder, a nurse from Baltic, was at the doctor’s office where she works in Dover. Yoder said their patients were relieved to know that the medical staff also felt the floor shake, too.

Dana Ely-Keiffer reported that it felt like someone was shaking the recliner she was in at the Smith Ambulance office in New Philadelphia.

“I accused my partner of it until I realized he was on the other side of the room,” she said. “He was thinking I was shaking him.”

The Commercial and Savings Bank four-story building in Millersburg was evacuated as a precaution. Employees and customers were allowed back in after a brief wait outside.

Across the street at the Holmes County Education Foundation, Anna Patton reported that the window blinds moved back and forth.

Some buildings in Columbus were also evacuated as a precaution.

The Holmes County Sheriff’s Office reported receiving a few calls from around the county about the trembler. No damage was reported.

August is the quiet month

August sunset by Bruce Stambaugh
A typical August susnet in Ohio's Amish country.

By Bruce Stambaugh

I have always thought of August as a transitional month, the days between busy, boisterous July and the revitalizing September.

August is the stepping-stone from summer’s onslaught of activities into a pre-fall mentality. Vacations wind down for most people. It’s back to school and back to work.

If we take time to halt our busyness, our clamor to re-ready ourselves for the new school year at hand, we can take note of this calendar bridge from tilling to harvest, from clamor to order. In its intermediary mode, August seems to quietly take it in stride.

The songbirds no longer need to announce their territory or impress their mate. The young have flown the coop, or more properly stated, the nest, and bird life has returned to seeking daily subsistence. The American Robin precisely models the point.

From April to July, the Robins paired off, warbled their luxurious choruses almost continuously sunup to sundown. They pecked on windows, noisily flitted off their nests when disturbed and faithfully fed their young.

The Robins were ubiquitous in both presence and song. People often comment when they see their first Robin of the spring.

First Robin by Bruce Stambaugh
People often remark when they spot their first Robin of the spring.

Now, in late August, the Robins have all slyly retreated to their preferred nomenclature. They are more than content to while away the day searching for food deep in the recesses of the shade and forest.

Think about it. When was the last time you either heard or saw a robin? They simply and silently slipped away unnoticed.

If they haven’t already, other bird species will soon be disappearing from the area altogether. The Purple Martins, Barn Swallows and Common Nighthawks all heed their interior instinctive urgings and vanish unseen much like the Robin. We under-appreciate their massive consumption of insect protein until it’s too late to thank them.

Just as quietly, the multiple greens of fields and pastures have grown taller, richer. Chameleon-like, they have morphed into emeralds, tans and russets with hardly a rustle.

August harvest colors by Bruce Stambaugh
The colors of August change from day to day.

Farmers have taken in their wheat and most of their oats matter-of-factly, and now tolerantly wait the drying of the later cash crops, corn and soybeans. There is no mechanized clanking in patience.

Song Sparrow by Bruce Stambaugh
A Song Sparrow sings away.
The Song Sparrow still belts out an occasional composition, but nothing as regular as it had been earlier in the season. The House Wrens, once so noisy they approached annoyance, have taken to the underbrush, giving their last brood endurance lessons.

August’s atmosphere also has been quieter than the previous months, save for a couple of late night thunderstorms. The brilliant flashes and deep, rolling booms shattered my sleep like Civil War cannon fire might have. Midnight imaginations run wild when deafeningly jolted.

The few sounds of August we can count on are more monotonous and so commonplace we may not even notice their calls. Cicadas and crickets signal day and night. With windows thrown open to catch the unusual August twilight coolness, the insect symphony has helped humans settle in for sound sleeping.

Every now and then a ranging coyote howls from atop the neighbor’s pastured hill, if for no other reason than to drive the tethered neighborhood canines crazy. The feral call is one thing. The domesticated is another.

Now that school years in most locales begin well ahead of September, the playful echoes of children rollicking at recess again fill the air. It’s a timbre I love to hear over and over again, even if it does break August’s amazing silent spell.
Amish school by Bruce Stambaugh

From book seller to book author, Wesner connects with the Amish

By Bruce Stambaugh

Erik Wesner, 33, went from selling books to the Amish to writing one about them. It was an unexpected but enjoyable trek for the Raleigh, North Carolina native.

“I kind of stumbled into it beginning in Arthur, Illinois,” Wesner said.

Erik Wesner by Bruce Stambaugh
Erik Wesner
Wesner went door-to-door selling books for nine years. His job took him to many communities around the country where Amish had settled.

“The kind of books I was selling were appropriate for them,” Wesner said. He explained that they included sets of family Bible study books.

Whether he spent five minutes or 20 minutes with each household, he liked what he saw and heard. He was impressed with the inquisitiveness of the Amish, their resourcefulness and friendliness.

Wesner graduated from the University of North Carolina with a double major of English and economics. It was that knowledge that caused him to take notice of something else that he found common among the Amish.

“Everywhere I went in the Amish communities,” Wesner explained, “I saw successful businesses.” He said he was intrigued with that pattern, especially since most of the entrepreneurs were self-taught and didn’t have either high school or college degrees.

“While visiting in Amish-owned businesses, I saw customers who had driven three hours from Indianapolis and Chicago to make purchases,” he said. “I figured that was a sign of quality and honesty.”

Wesner couldn’t help but notice the continued success of these businesses in each Amish community he visited, even given the down economy.

“From Iowa to Illinois to Lancaster, Pennsylvania to Holmes County, Ohio, I found many success stories to share,” he said. That instilled in him a desire to learn about how they were able to not just survive but thrive when other businesses were not.

That intrigue lead to his book, Success Made Simple, an extensive review of Amish-owned businesses and what makes them consistently tick and click. His book is based on many interviews with Amish business folks across the country.

Wesner said though the book didn’t make the best-seller list, he gained something even more rewarding.

“Through all of this, I have made many friends among the Amish,” he said. That is what brought him back to Holmes County recently. He was visiting some New Order Amish in the Shreve, Ohio area.

In addition to his book, Wesner started a blog called “Amish America” right after the Nickel Mines incident in Lancaster County, Pensylvania in 2006. A gunman shot several Amish schoolgirls. The story made headlines worldwide.

“I didn’t like some of the things I saw and heard following that tragic situation,” Wesner said. Since he enjoys writing, he began the blog at http://amishamerica.com/.

The blog features stories and photographs of various Amish communities. He said he writes about and shows examples of everyday Amish life without trying to glorify it.

“I really enjoy the immediacy of the blog,” Wesner said, referring to the immediate posting of comments by some of his many followers. “I find that very rewarding.”

Wesner said there have been unexpected benefits to his blog.

“I mentioned an Amish business on my blog,” he said, “and the owner thanked me. She had customers who said they heard about her business by reading the blog.”

Wesner said he is working on a second book about the Amish. He said it would focus on the lesser-known things about the Amish lifestyle.

When he is not visiting Amish communities during the summer months, Wesner spends eight months out of the year teaching English in his parents’ home country of Poland. He said his students are mostly adult professionals who need to learn English for their jobs.

“I guess I feel a sense of obligation,” Wesner said about living in Poland. “My grandmother still lives there, and I didn’t want her to feel alone.”

That kind of dedication to family would resonate well with the Amish culture, too.

Corn and grandchildren are both Incredible

Husking corn by Bruce Stambaugh
Everyone pitched in to help husk the sweet corn.

By Bruce Stambaugh

We have begun a corny, new tradition in the family.

In June 2010, our daughter and her family moved from their beloved Austin, Texas to Harrisonburg, Virginia in the lovely Shenandoah Valley. As much as we enjoyed visiting them in the Lone Star State, we were thrilled that they would be much closer to us geographically.

True, driving the 350 miles across eight mountain passes approximated the flying time to Austin. The cost, however, was much less to travel overland than in the air, and more convenient, too.

My wife and I liked to visit Carrie and her family in Texas in late fall when the weather there was more favorable than the ever-changeable stuff of Ohio. On those autumn excursions, we often packed an extra suitcase, not for us but for them. It was filled with nothing more than several containers of frozen Incredible sweet corn. It was their winter supply of vegetable sweetness.

Slider and grandsons by Bruce Stambaugh
Slider teased our grandsons at a Cleveland Indians game last summer.

Last August our daughter and her three children drove from their Virginia home to ours in Ohio to help with the corn preservation process. Their extended stay gave us a chance to do up the corn and for them to explore the germane niceties of our area. Carrie returned home with the corn and the youngest, Maren, a few days later, leaving us with the two boys, Evan and Davis.

This year they repeated the process, only this time our wise and cunning daughter escaped with the Incredible and in appreciation for the golden gift left us with the trio of grandchildren, ages seven, five and 22 months. We couldn’t have been happier.

Last year, Nana and I took the boys to their first Cleveland Indians game. The highlight of the evening occurred off the field. Slider, the Tribe’s mascot, pounced on the boys, teasing them with hugs and tweaking their ball cap brims.

Last week, we repeated that experience, only with Uncle Nathan, our son, pinch-hitting for Nana, who was home entertaining toddler Maren. Unlike the perfect evening of a year ago, we witnessed two innings of baseball and two hours of drenching rain.

Corn silk by Bruce Stambaugh
Our granddaughter, Maren, was pretty picky when it came to removing the corn silk.

The baseball games were rewards for everyone pitching in to help with the corn process. Evan and Davis helped husk. Even little Maren joined in by removing the tickly corn silk from several cobs. She was meticulous in her task, determined to get every last strand.

Nana, of course, coordinated the corn coronation. She prefers to cut the kernels from the cobs before cooking it. She says it goes a lot faster. Once the cooking is completed, it’s simply a matter of finding enough containers to cache the corn.

We were amazed at Maren’s vocabulary and inquisitiveness, which included willingly participating in the corn fest. Her long sun-bleached curls matched the shade of the corn’s yellowy ears.

Cooked corn by Bruce Stambaugh
After the corn is cooked, it is ladled into containers to be frozen.

Evan and Davis had grown, too. Lanky and imaginative, they had no trouble keeping busy without getting into too much trouble. Of course, at mealtime, locally raised corn on the cob was a favorite.

At week’s end, we met their mother halfway in southwestern Pennsylvania to return the children to their rightful owner. That’s one of the advantages of being grandparents.

All in all the mix of grandkids and corn made for an Incredible time together. It’s a sweet, new tradition that I hope lasts longer than the frozen corn usually does.